Lovers and Friends  A Series of Skins Drabbles
by lizardwriter
Summary: These are a series of Skins drabbles.  There are all sorts of pairings: Karen/Effy, Katie/Effy, Emily/Effy, Katie/Naomi.  I hope you enjoy them.  Disclaimer: I don't own Skins or the characters.


**A/N: These are a series of drabbles with multiple pairings from various prompts written for the Queerly Awesome Ficathon on LJ. Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Skins or the characters. **

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**Drabble #1: The Unravelling**** – Katie/Naomi**

It's a drunken admission followed by a sloppy kiss.

It's words that should never have been spoken and actions that should never have been done.

It's Katie's unraveling and Naomi's…Well, It's Naomi's revelation.

She hadn't expected it. How could she have? After so many years of abuse, of belittling, of glares across classrooms and hallways, of thinly veiled (and not even remotely veiled) threats, of those stupid fucking lesbian digs…She'd never have dreamed it.

Except…

Except she was actually fun at Pandora's party. Except there'd been a gleam of something other than hatred in her eye when they'd fought at the Love Ball (and another gleam of defeat and sadness when Emily had led Naomi away). Except that when she'd had nowhere else to go, she'd turned up at Naomi's doorstep. Except that she hadn't moved into the caravan with her mum, dad and brother.

Except that she'd stayed even after Emily had left for good (when Naomi was sure she'd been an absolute miserable cunt for weeks on end).

Except that she always turned everything into a competition. Even those words. The ones drunkenly muttered in Naomi's ear. The ones that made everything finally thud into place. The ones that made Naomi's heart unexpectedly soar for the first time in over a year.

"I loved you first."

She runs away as soon as their lips break apart. Of course she does.

Naomi's left too stunned to even move for a few minutes, and by the time she finally reacts and looks around, Katie's gone.

It takes her almost two full hours to find Katie. (In truth, she's given up and is trudging home, defeated.)

She looks so vulnerable, sitting two streets over from their house (and yes, Naomi thinks of it as "theirs" now – She wonders why she didn't before), knees tucked under her chin, mascara streaked down her face.

She tries to get up, to run away, when she sees Naomi, but Naomi's the soberer, and, therefore, more coordinated of the two (and okay the fact that she's not wearing six inch stiletto's probably helps). She catches Katie by the wrist, and keeps her anchored in place.

"Look, you don't fucking have to say any lies, all right? I'm a big fucking girl. I'm Katie fucking Fitch, for fuck's sake," Katie snarls, attempting to snatch her wrist away and failing miserably.

"Impressive usage of the word fuck," Naomi comments with a grin she can't deny.

"Fuck you," Katie glares.

Naomi truly smirks then. "I think you'd like to."

"This is not a joke you pompous, self-centred, insensitive cunt!" Katie spits at her.

"No, but it's a little funny," Naomi counters. She's never seen Katie glare as hard as she is right then, and it only serves to make her laugh. She's vaguely aware that it's a horribly inappropriate reaction, but, really, so is being in love with your sister's ex-girlfriend, especially, if Katie was telling the truth (and Naomi's fairly convinced that she was), if you were actually in love with her while she was dating your twin sister, so apparently propriety isn't really on the table tonight.

Katie moves to slap her with her free hand, but Naomi easily catches that one as well, and it's then that she realises how close Katie's face is to her now, how Katie's big brown eyes are glaring at her with so much hate, and yet, something that's not hate at all. It's then that her breathing hitches, and her laughter dies out. It's the moment that she unravels, too.

"I think I love you, too."

Katie stops struggling then. In fact, Naomi's fairly certain that she's stopped breathing.

"You think?" Katie asks softly after what feels like an eternity.

Naomi leans in and presses her lips tenderly to Katie's. She lets all the emotions that she's been ignoring, neglecting, denying flood through her. It's really quite a shock to her system just how much she does feel.

"I know," she murmurs against Katie's lips.

Katie pins her to the wall in a demanding kiss with so much force that all the air escapes her lungs in a gasp. All of the longing, all the want, all the years of pent up frustration and denial and love, fuelled into one kiss.

Naomi kisses back like her life depends on it, and, strangely, it feels like it might.

.

.

Later, when they're legs are tangled with each other's and with the sheets, and their breathing is laboured but returning to normal, and their hearts are still racing as their fingers ghost over each other's body's tracing out lines they never thought they'd get to trace, Naomi can't help marvel at it all.

One little admission. That was all it took. One little admission said in four small words was all it took to completely unravel both of their worlds and then completely put them back together as one.

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**Drabble #2: Butterflies - Katie/Naomi**

She was strong and confident. That was what Naomi noticed first. She knew exactly who she was even at the age of twelve. She carried herself with so much dignity, so much poise, that it was impossible not to notice her, to be attracted to her, to love her even.

The problem came when she opened her mouth. Not in general (although that could sometimes be an issue), but when directed at Naomi in particular. It hurt, and it stung, and it made her heart ache, so she got angry instead.

It was easier to be angry. Especially after the other one, the quiet one, the one that Naomi had barely noticed until that moment kissed her. On the lips. And Katie saw them. And Naomi took the blame.

It was so easy to be angry, and then the anger became pointless because there was no one to share it with, and her mum gave her a lecture about letting things fester, and she'd rolled her eyes, but she'd known her mum had a point. So instead she ignored it, ignored i_her/i._ She pushed away those stupid little butterflies that had haunted her since she first laid eyes on Katie Fitch (and had continued to haunt her through her anger). She forgot them. She tried to forget _her._

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It wasn't until years later, long after Emily had wormed her way into Naomi's life and heart, long after Naomi had crushed Emily's heart and her own in the process, long after both hearts had been tentatively mended, and long after Naomi's heart had been crushed yet again, that Naomi remembered those butterflies.

At first she put them down to indigestion, but they kept popping up at the most improbable times, and refusing to go away no matter what medication she pushed down her throat.

They'd kept in touch, much to both of their surprise. They'd become true friends for the first time in their lives. It was for this reason that, when they both ended up working in London, neither pulling a big enough salary that living by themselves was an option, that they decided to live together. That was when the butterflies started. It was the proximity. That was the trouble.

Naomi tried to ignore them again, but they wouldn't go away this time.

When Katie would shoot her an unexpected smile as they sat watching telly in the evening, they'd flutter up and batter her insides. When she'd come home from a particularly arduous day of work, and, as if having already known that, Katie had a meal already on the table waiting for her, they'd appear and wreak havoc on her stomach. And when she'd find herself just sitting comfortably in Katie's presence, not necessarily talking or doing anything important, but just sitting, and often touching each other somehow (arms brushing, legs on a lap, head on a shoulder), the butterflies would rear up and demand attention.

If she thought about it, which she tried not to, she could remember how it felt to first see her, all those years ago. The butterflies were the same then.

The months passed and Naomi refused to acknowledge them, but the butterflies persisted, and Katie...Katie was always there. It was amazing seeing the woman she'd become. She hadn't lost an ounce of her bite, but she reserved it for when she needed it. She was still confident, still headstrong, and still carried herself with so much poise, that sometimes when Naomi saw her she forgot to breathe, but she'd become more caring too, more nurturing. She'd learned to balance the different aspects of her person and her life. Naomi envied her that.

Life would probably have gone on as normal, and Naomi would've probably tried to ignore the butterflies forever, except that she got sick. It wasn't life threatening or anything (although there were moments when the fever was at its peak that she really wished it was so she could just die and get the pain over with), it simply was, and it happened.

Katie made her chicken soup, insisting that it was the cure to all that ailed her. She fed her bowl after bowl. She helped her change whenever her fever broke and Naomi felt too weak to lift her own arms above her head. She covered her in blankets when she had chills and supplied cold compresses for her eyes when they felt like they were going to burn out of her skull.

It was all of that and more that made the butterflies go crazy.

One night, when the fever was especially bad, and Katie had fallen asleep in the armchair in Naomi's room only to be woken a few hours later by her groaning in pain, Katie came to sit beside her on the bed and stroke her hair (which both comforted her and hurt, because she'd never realised just how sensitive her fucking scalp could feel). It was then that the butterflies finally won.

"I loved you first, you know," Naomi muttered, the continuation of a thought process that had only been going on inside her head until that second.

"What?" Katie asked, sure that it must be the fever talking.

"I loved you first. Before Emily. Way back when," Naomi elaborated dreamily.

"You're mad," Katie chuckled, shaking her head.

Naomi frowned. That wasn't what she was supposed to say. She didn't believe her. But why? She was telling the truth. She took Katie's hands in hers. "No, I mean it!" she insisted, sure that this was a dream, but wanting to get it right anyway. "I've always kind of loved you, but I ignored it for a long time 'cause you were a bitch, but now you're not and the butterflies won't leave me alone, so that's how I know. I love you."

Katie shook her head again. "You've got a fever."

"Yes. And I love you. Ask the butterflies."

Katie sighed heavily. "What butterflies?" she asked patiently with the hint of amusement in her voice.

"The ones in my stomach that flutter like crazy whenever you're near me," Naomi replied matter-of-factly.

There was a long pause, and Naomi almost drifted off to sleep (although she was eighty percent sure she already was asleep, so that just confused her a bit), before Katie spoke again.

"You mean it, don't you."

Naomi's brows furrowed. It took her brain a second to catch up to what Katie meant, and then she nodded. "Yes."

"You know you're awake, right?" Katie asked. "This isn't a fevered delusion."

Naomi's brows furrowed again. Was Katie sure? It didn't sound like something she'd admit aloud in reality. Nonetheless, it was true. "Okay."

"So let me ask you, and remember, this is real: do you love me?"

"Yes."

Katie shook her head and closed her eyes, and Naomi's fever addled brain thought, _she's gorgeous,_ before Katie opened them again. "You stupid cow. You should have told me." Her words were soft and her fingers (that had stopped at the first pronouncement of love) began to caress Naomi's hair once more.

"Why?" Naomi asked, her brain not up for complex thinking (or much of any thinking really).

"Because I love you, too. I mean, I haven't always. Don't get me wrong. It took me years to realise it and even longer to accept it. I never thought you'd...You were Emily's, and then you weren't but we were friends, and-"

Naomi put her finger against Katie's lips. All of the words coming out of her mouth were giving her more information than she could handle in her current state, and the butterflies in her stomach had just gone completely mad.

She felt Katie smile against her finger before Katie's hand took it away, wrapping her own hand tightly in it. "Of course you had to tell me when you're sick and I can't even kiss you. I've wanted to kiss you for years, Naomi. Only you could've fucking planned this."

Naomi wanted to protest that she hadn't exactly planned it, but then Katie brought her hand to her lips and kissed it firmly, and suddenly the protest didn't matter so much.

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It took two days for the conversation to sink in to Naomi's brain (one of which was spent convincing her that the conversation had actually happened).

It was a week before Naomi got to press her lips to Katie's. The butterflies never left her alone after that, but, if it meant Katie was at her side, she didn't want them to.

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**Drabble #3: Almost – Karen/Effy**

Their arms envelope each other, holding each other as they cry, as the last tears are shed and then, impossibly, still more come. The embrace is almost comforting, but nothing can ever completely comfort what they feel.

They knew him best, the two of them. They like to think that, at least. They relish that fact, take comfort in it, forge bonds over it. Truth is that both of them almost knew him well, but they were too busy doing other things, thinking other things, to really, truly _know_ him.

Her lips are soft, forceful, demanding, but not quite the same. Almost, but not quite. Not quite Freddie's.

They fuck to fill a void, to smother the overwhelming feeling of loss. It works…almost…to an extent, at least.

Her breasts are pert, smooth, suckable. Her stomach's flat, thin (almost like _his_, but more feminine). She's beautiful in her own way. Just like him…almost.

Her dark eyes are so familiar, so comforting. When they gaze softly at her, she can feel an inkling of what she used to starting to well up inside of her. They're sooo close. They're almost the right eyes.

It's a codependence of sorts. One neither of them is willing to break. They both provide something for the other. They both take something from the other, too. By being with each other it's almost like being closer to him. Almost.

Seasons pass and green leaves turn to gold. They fall to the ground where they get kicked and blown and torn apart before they disintegrate to dust. _Just like people_, Effy thinks. She tells Karen, and she almost gets slapped.

They're growing, healing, forgetting…almost. It's harder than it looks, and it fucking doesn't look easy.

The stray touches grow more focused, the comforting embraces become less for comfort and more for warmth. The time they spend together forms something resembling an actual relationship…Almost, at least.

They're both searching for something that they'll never truly be able to find in each other. They fall together again and again, hoping to find the answers they're looking for. Sometimes they almost do.

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**Drabble #4: Doesn't Mean a Thing – Emily/Effy**

She strokes her porcelain cheek softly, more an exploration of the skin than a savouring of the moment. The red hair currently splayed in stark contrast across her white pillow will soon be gone. She has no illusions of what happened, and she knows that when Emily awakes she'll disappear before the cheapness of the night before can even truly hit her.

Sex is just sex. People forget that sometimes.

Sometimes people just need to feel another's touch.

She examines the peaceful expression on Emily's face, aware that it'll soon disappear to be replaced by regret, guilt, self-loathing. She is beautiful. No denying it. It doesn't matter, though. It doesn't make Effy's insides do flips, or send tingles down her spine, or do any of the things that attraction combined with emotion is supposed to do. Emily isn't hers and she's not Emily's.

She knows that Emily will try to put more emphasis on it than there needs be. Effy will pretend that Emily was special just to soothe her, but she wasn't. She was a girl. A good fuck. A warm, beautiful body when she needed one. Deep down Emily will know that, too.

When Emily leaves, without even a look back, Effy doesn't feel regret or hurt. She simply rolls over and breathes in the scent still lingering then. It's pleasant, but it doesn't mean a thing.

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**Drabble #5: Don't Bother Making the Bed – Katie/Effy**

She looks down at the cracked onyx pendant in her hand, tracing her thumb down the line of the crack, and smiles at the memory it conjures up.

_A messy bedroom, sheets muddled in the middle of the bed. Harsh words exchanged. The necklace, pendant dangling from the end, thrown violently against the far wall. _

_The undercurrent of sexual tension that always laced its way through their fights, and, in the end, always resolved them. _

_Lips pressed on lips, tongue on tongue, the harshness lingering until passion completely overwhelms. _

_Effy grinning smugly down at her afterwards. "I guess it's a good thing we didn't bother making the bed." _

"Fucking, Effy," she mumbles.

"I heard my name?" Effy pops her head round the corner of the door frame. She smirks and puts her hands on her hips. "You know, you're not going to get any packing done just sitting there on the bed."

Katie glares, but there's the hints of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"The moving truck comes at two tomorrow, and we've got loads left to pack," Effy comments as she approaches the bed.

"But tomorrow night, we'll be living in our new flat in Hampstead, walking distance from that crepe stand you love," Katie reminds her, grinning broadly at the thought.

"With the woman I love," Effy adds with a sly grin, leaning in for a kiss.

Katie wraps her arms around Effy pulling her down on top of her as she collapses backwards onto the bed. She kisses her again. "I think that packing can wait for a little while."

"Mmm…I like the way you think Ms. Fitch."

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Katie watches as Effy strokes her stomach, peppering soft kisses across it before looking up at her with bright eyes.

"What're you thinking about?" Effy enquires.

"Just that cracks aren't always a bad thing," Katie replies as Effy climbs back up the bed, repositioning herself next to her.

"Of course not," Effy says. "Everything's cracked. That's how the light gets in." She places soft kiss on Katie's lips, smothering her protests about the randomness of the comment.

Katie sighs contentedly when Effy pulls away. Effy's right, really, even if her response was annoyingly cryptic, as always. Katie's eyes sweep over the room and take in the twisted sheets, discarded to the end of the bed. She grins. "Good thing we didn't bother making the bed."

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**Drabble #6: Moving On – Katie/Naomi**

"You fucking have to move on, Naomi. She's gone. She's moved on. She's dating other people."

"You're one to talk. Like I don't know that you visit Freddie's grave every week, even though you weren't even all that fond of him after he dumped you for Effy. Like you're not still living in my fucking house, even though she's moved out and gone off to uni and your family's bought another house," Naomi snaps back, reaching the end of her patience.

"It's a fucking tiny house, and you know my mother!" Katie argues. "But if it's that much of a fucking problem, I'll move out. I didn't realise that having someone to hold your hair back when you're puking cause you've been drowning your sorrows at the bottom of a whiskey bottle _again_ was such an inconvenience."

The violent pang of nausea hits Naomi square in the gut, and it isn't whiskey this time. She swallows hard. "Because you're always such a peach to live with. I've never held your hair back while you puked. Like I don't have to listen to constant ridicule about what I choose to wear around my own fucking house. Like I've never had to kick out one of your nameless faceless shags in the morning when you're too hungover to do so," she manages to retort, but her mouth's gone dry.

"Right, well, I'll go then," Katie says curtly, her jaw muscles tightening and her eyes narrowing as she starts to turn away.

Naomi sighs and reaches out to grab her wrist. "Katie-"

"Get off me, bitch!" Katie growls yanking her arm away, and it's when she turns back to glare that Naomi catches the glimmer of tears welling in her eyes.

It does something to her, then. Something she really hadn't expected it to. Her stomach twists in knots. Her mouth opens and shuts, looking for words that have abandoned it. "Katie," she finally says again, softly this time.

"What?" Katie demands as the first tear trickles its way down her cheek.

Completely without her official consent, Naomi's body surges forward, her hand reaching out to cup Katie's neck, pulling her towards her. Her lips slam against Katie's that kiss back so much more eagerly than she'd anticipated.

Something tingles inside of her that she hasn't felt for a long time.

Katie pulls away all too soon, and Naomi's not surprised at the slap that stings her cheek immediately afterwards.

"Before you even suggest it, I know you're not Emily," Naomi says, and Katie closes her mouth. It's true, she realises. She wasn't even wishing that Katie was Emily.

They stare silently at each other for a minute, Naomi's heart racing in her chest, her lips aching for more.

"I need a fucking drink," Katie mutters, shoulders hunching forward as she marches past Naomi and opens the liquor cabinet.

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.

Naomi's verging on very tipsy when Katie finally speaks again. Her voice is so quiet that Naomi has to strain her ears to hear it.

"I don't want to move out."

Naomi rests a tentative hand over where Katie's rests on the couch beside her. "You don't have to."

It's apparently not the answer that Katie's searching for because she snatches her hand away.

Naomi tries again. "I don't want you to."

Katie's dark brown eyes come up to meet hers, then, and she looks so uncharacteristically vulnerable that Naomi almost wants to scoff, to tease her, to do anything to break the seriousness of the moment.

She doesn't though, she stays silent and looks back, waiting for Katie's response.

A moment later Katie's eyes drop to her lips, and she feels a shiver run through her.

Katie leans in slowly, hesitantly, as if feeling the situation out. Naomi knows better than to make her come all the way to her, so she meets her half way.

This kiss is nothing like their first one. It's tender and soft, and wrought with emotion.

When Katie pulls away this time, she lingers close, rather than pushing Naomi away. She leans her forehead against Naomi's and trails her fingers through her hair.

"Are you sure you're not just-"

"She's the past, and the past is gone," Naomi interrupts, before Katie can voice her insecurities. "I can't bring it back, and I don't know that I want to." It's weird to say it aloud, but, despite her moping, these feelings have been building in her for a while. She knew exactly what had made everything over the past several months bearable, and it was sitting right in front of her.

"So what am I, then?" Katie demands, leaning away, her tone incredulous, as if she thinks Naomi's just bluffing.

It's a good question, and it takes Naomi a few minutes before she has the answer.

"You're what takes it's place. The past's, I mean. You're the future, Katie Fitch."

Katie's face breaks in to a pleased grin, and she sits up a little taller. "Damn straight! I'm glad you fucking finally realised that."

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**Thanks for reading. Reviews are always welcome. **


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